Tripping the Falling Guessings
by The Perfect Drain
Summary: Draco takes a fall, loses it all... his memory, that is. Will it make him less of a jerk, or do opportunities only knock a couple times? *blink* *wink*


Title: Tripping the Falling Guessings (possibly subject to change)  
  
Author: The Perfect Drain (redundantii2@hotmail.com)  
  
Pairings: None as yet. I'm tempted to make this slash, but it isn't yet, and may stay that way. Let your opinion be known!  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. JK Rowling's. And pardons if the idea's been done before. I haven't read a fic with this theme to my knowledge, but I'm sure there are some out there.  
  
  
*  
  
Part One:   
  
Stains on the Scenery  
  
*  
  
  
  
//Draco, can you hear me? Mr Malfoy...//  
  
//It doesn't look good. I don't know...//  
  
//What happened?//  
  
//It appears he fell down a staircase.//  
  
//And you think?//  
  
Hesitance.  
  
//There's... something else.//  
  
Silence.  
  
//Any idea how much damage?//  
  
//No, no idea. Not until he wakes.//  
  
He wakes.  
  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Young mister Malfoy! How are you feeling?"   
  
A kindly old face swims into focus in front of me. I blink and hold back a cry at the discovery of the wonderful headache I have. "Wha...what?" Great, now I can almost speak, too.  
  
The old man looks concerned. "Draco, do you know where you are?" he asks.  
  
Ah. There's another problem. I try to concentrate... my head hurts so much I can't remember...  
  
"I..."  
  
Oh, come on now, this is ridiculous. Obviously, something's happened to you, a nasty fall, you're in hospital, and you're somewhat disoriented. You also suppose that "Draco" is your name. Which it is, of course. Really, you're not quite certain of *that* because you've been called *Draco* for the last... uh, some number of years?   
  
Yes, 'Draco' darling, looks like there might be a few gaps in your memory... like who the hell you *are*, maybe?  
  
The man is looking even more concerned. A woman is bustling around, looking in cabinets. I don't know either of them. Only one way to find out... ask! I'm brilliant.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
At his startled expression, that's not quite the reaction he was expecting from me. What other reaction am I supposed to have, after "apparently" falling down stairs and getting brain damage?   
  
"I am Albus Dumbledore, Draco. I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts... your school?" Huh. My school? He looks like he can be trusted, I suppose.  
  
I take a deep breath and try to calm down. I hadn't even noticed getting tense. "I... don't seem to recall some things, Headmaster," I admit.  
  
He nods, the same damn concerned look on his face, even though I can see his eyes crinkling up in the corners. "Do you remember your name?"  
  
"Draco? It has a familiar ring to it, sir, but not really." I manage to hold back a sneer. I'm not really in a position to be rude and obnoxious.  
  
The Headmaster turns and calls to the woman. "Poppy? Young Malfoy is awake, and seems to have a touch of amnesia. Can you help him?" And to me: "Would you like a lemon drop, Draco?" I decline, and he smiles and walks out humming, like he's in on some big joke. Odd man.  
  
"Poppy" comes over, inspects me, asks me a lot of questions, and finally concludes that no, she can't fix my brain, no, I don't remember this Hogwarts school or who I am, yes, my memory should come back *eventually*, and yes, I *can* go back to class in a couple of days. The logic is overwhelming. Really.  
  
*  
  
That afternoon, I was still reeling from being filled in on the basics of Hogwarts by a woman named McGonagall.   
  
//You're a wizard, yes, that means magic, your family has been notified of your condition, you get temporary relief from homework but as soon as you get your memory back...// She didn't seem to relish the experience, and left as soon as she could. I wasn't sorry to see her go.  
  
There was a timid knock on the door, before a person entered that wasn't just doing their job by talking to me. A real live *visitor*! I was told a few of my classmates had come by while I was in a coma or whatever, but this was the first to dare come in while I was awake.  
  
I immediately perked up and looked the visitor over. Hmm. He looked to be about my age, whatever that was, and slightly taller. He was tanned and had messy black hair and green eyes hidden behind damn ugly glasses. All in all, though, not bad. He looked at me oddly.  
  
He came to a halt a few feet away from my bed, staring at me. I stared back. He shifted uneasily and glanced away.  
  
"Yes? I have amnesia, I nearly died from 'apparently' falling down the steps... it's a whole big thing... so who are you?" I demanded.  
  
He gave me a startled expression and then cracked a bitter smile. "Same old Malfoy, eh? Um... sorry, anyway, I was worried I guess, and I guess I shouldn't have come, and -" I cut him off.  
  
"Name, please? Then you can tell me how you know me. And for gods sake, sit down! I'm not going to hit you."  
  
He blinked owlishly. A moment later he nodded and sat down. "I'm... Potter. Harry. Harry Potter. You really don't remember?" I shook my head and he continued in a rush. "I guess, yeah, we're sort of... rivals. As in arch-enemies. As in hating each other's guts."   
  
"Why?"  
  
He looked shocked that I would ask, before stammering, "We-well, uhhh... we always have. For the past six years."  
  
I considered getting annoyed. It sounded as though Harry Potter and 'myself' were complete idiots. Hating people without reason, honestly! In the end though, I just asked -  
  
"No reason before that?"  
  
"Well, you were an obnoxious asshole and insulted me and my friends at every chance..."  
  
I rolled my eyes. Oh. Hold on, that *does* sort of seem like something I would do.   
  
"...then there was that time with the..."  
  
I suddenly realized I had tuned out the rest of what he said. Probably wasn't important anyway. "Why did I insult you?"  
  
He paused, looking only slightly perturbed at the interruption. "I'm Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which whups Slytherin in every single match, I'm friends with 'Mudbloods' and 'Weasels' and live with Muggles, I'm the hero of the wizarding world, and am fawned over by practically everyone, I survived the killing curse of an evil Dark Wizard, Voldemort, thus the enemy of him, your father, you, and everything you stand for... need I go on? Not that I want you to hate me or anything, but this is a bit freaky."  
  
I was still stuck on what he had said about my father. My father. He hadn't come to visit me, had he? And did I have a mother? And what did my father stand for?   
  
"I... I don't stand for anything, Potter," I said. "Not right now."  
  
We sat in silence for a while. I could hear a distant hum of voices, and the window shades creaked. It must be windy outside.  
  
Harry spoke. "It's partly my fault, too."  
  
I raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
He ignored me and went on. "Shortly after we first met, you offered to be my friend. I turned you down, because you were an ass to the friends I'd just met. I think that might've ...I dunno, upset you? So you didn't like me after that. Continued being an ass to us. I guess it's understandable, what with you *being* an ass." Harry grinned to soften his words.   
  
I...  
  
//*Draco, it doesn't matter what other people think of us.* *We're better than they are.* *They are filth, especially that Potter boy.* We are *Malfoys*...//  
  
//A flash of black hair, green eyes, glaring at me, unruffled. *I think I can figure out the wrong sort for myself, thanks...*//  
  
I smiled back at him.  
  
  
  
  
  
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... more to come? ... read, review, save the dew ... 


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